


Rebel Without A Claus

by The_lazy_eye



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Anne Will Always Hate Him At First Sight, And Diana Barry Is Always A Savage Ride Or Die, Christmas Party, Co-workers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Gilbert Blythe Will Simp In Every Universe, Mall Santa Claus, Vomiting, alcohol consumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: No, she doesn’t hate Christmas.She hates Santa.NotSanta-Santa, though. Not the magical, jolly old Saint Nicholas who traipses around the globe leaving presents for children and their families. Again, she could never hate him.She hates this dollar store knock off Santa who’s got his unruly brown curls sticking out from his wiry, cheap wig.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Ruby Gillis & Moody Spurgeon MacPherson
Comments: 27
Kudos: 123
Collections: The Shirbert Circle





	Rebel Without A Claus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_strangest_person](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_strangest_person/gifts).



It isn’t that Anne hates Christmas. She doesn’t. She _couldn’t_. If someone came into her house and pressed a .42 magnum to her head and demanded she renounce every ounce of Christmas spirit in her bones, she would deck the hall with boughs of holly.

Fa la la la la, right?

No, she doesn’t hate Christmas.

She hates Santa.

Not _Santa-_ Santa, though. Not the magical, jolly old Saint Nicholas who traipses around the globe leaving presents for children and their families. Again, she could never hate him.

She hates this dollar store knock off Santa who’s got his unruly brown curls sticking out from his wiry, cheap wig. The red of his hat doesn’t even match the red of his suit, and the white trim is dirtied from years of improper cleaning techniques.

Seriously, who hired this guy? Who let him get away with smudging the good name of Santa Claus? Mall Santas can’t be _that_ hard to come by.

And it doesn’t help that she’s the _only_ one who feels this way. All day it’s been _oh, he’s so handsome_ or _oh, look how good he is with the children_. It makes Anne sick to her stomach. They’re all stuck under some kind of ridiculous spell. They can’t see though the sugar cookie-induced haze for long enough to recognize he’s just another stupid boy who just wants to make a quick buck. He doesn’t care about being Santa, he doesn’t care about Christmas spirit, and he _certainly_ doesn’t care about tradition.

If the way he blatantly winked at Anne and patted his lap earlier is anything to go by, he’s just like every other boy. He only wants one thing.

To ruin Christmas.

Anne watches him, tucked away behind the forest of candy canes, as he leans in so a small child can whisper in his ear. She’s got to be no older than six, all gap teeth and pigtails, and the way she smiles is bright enough to light up a whole room. For what it’s worth, Santa nods vigorously at her little words and shoots her a million dollar smile when she leans away. She looks satisfied and the two of them smile at the camera before a quick flash goes off.

Another cherished family memory in the books.

He may be a smug asshole with no sense of decency, but at least he’s good with the kids. At least their Christmases won’t be tainted with the knowledge that their idyllic holiday hero is really just some dude in a costume.

Diana leads the girl away and Anne sees Ruby lead a little boy up to Santa. Her hair falls in long, golden waves, standing out against the dark green of her elf costume. She practically floats over to the mall Santa, wide eyes twinkling like broken Christmas lights. She is _so_ gone for him, has been since the very moment he walked through the door. He walked into their backroom with the confidence of a mediocre white man, and Ruby tripped over her own feet to introduce herself.

What she sees in him, Anne will never know.

“If looks could kill,” Diana whispers as she walks over, assuming her post next to Anne. Tilly has taken over for her, which is Anne’s signal that the break rotation is in motion and she should probably get back out there. Too bad for her, she has absolutely no desire to plaster on a plastic smile.

Pouting doesn’t pay the bills, though.

“Why him,” Anne says back, voice hushed so nearby parents don’t overhear. “Of all the guys in the world, why does it have to be him?”

“You’re not being fair,” Diana says. She’s working her hair out of its ponytail, hat tucked underneath her arm as her fingers comb through the inky black knots formed by the chaos of the day. “Seriously, you don’t even know him.”

“I know the type,” Anne says, dressing back up while Diana dresses down. Her own hair is tied into two signature plaits that rest over her shoulders. The red of it clashes _horribly_ with her uniform, but it’s usually worth it to spread a little bit of cheer. Besides, it’s not like she can dress up as Santa.

“Oh, and what’s his type?”

“He’s smug and he’s _rude.”_

Diana snorts, rolling her eyes as she finishes detangling the last bit of her hair. “Anne, that’s completely baseless!”

She would love to stay and chat, she really would, but the flash of the camera calls for her to tend to her post and if she doesn’t get out there soon, Mr. Phillips will have her head. She sends Diana an unconvinced look as she makes her way back onto the floor.

In the blink of an eye, Anne smiles and greets the next child in line. “Hello, hun, are you ready to meet Mr. Santa Claus?”

And just like that, Anne spends the remainder of the Mall Santa Season with her chin up and her eyes forward as she steadfastly ignores every single attempt one Gilbert Blythe makes to speak with her.

It works easily enough. Gilbert tries to talk to her in the breakroom, so she leaves. He tries to engage with her on the floor, so she smiles and says something like _Oh, Santa, you’re here for the children, not the elves, are you not?_ It seems to get the message across, judging by the way he always looks at his feet for a moment before slipping into the next cheesy line about Christmas and all the good boys and girls in the world.

It continues on and on, until the end of their last shift together. As soon as the red rope closes, signifying the end of their day – and the season – Anne lets out the weeks-long breath she’s been holding. Her feet can’t carry her to the breakroom quick enough. She practically strips on her way there, hat tucked neatly under her arm as she shrugs the bright green vest off leaving her in just her undershirt.

“Whoa, Anne,” Charlie laughs, getting out of her way before he’s barreled over. “You’re not going to stay for cookies?”

“Nope,” She pops her P and throws her hat and vest into her duffle. Her green trousers come off next, revealing her customary leggings underneath. No way she’s sticking around. She won’t give that dime-store Santa another second of time, won’t let him take the opportunity to slip up beside her and strike up the world’s worst conversation.

She’s had quite enough and she would gladly skip out on their annual Milk and Cookies to avoid further subjection to that _hell._

She can see the disappointment in Charlie's eyes when he says, “But it’s tradition!”

“Oh, come on,” Anne’s voice is thick with exasperation as she speaks. She doesn’t mean to take it out on Charlie, he’s just the unfortunate soul who happens to be there. “It’s not the end of the world. Besides, we still have the Christmas party. You’ll see me there.”

By the time half their crew has made it back, Anne’s bag is packed and her hoodie is on. She bids everyone farewell in a hurried way, kissing Diana and Ruby’s cheeks and promising to help them set up for the party in a few days.

Then she’s gone.

The winter air is fresh in her lungs and it feels good. Almost as if it’s a new beginning. The weight of the world has been lifted off her shoulders and she feels ten pounds lighter. Just the knowledge that she’ll never have to see _him_ again has her practically skipping to her car.

And as a result, Christmas and all the chaos it ensues blows by like a breeze. She sees her family, exchanges gifts, and eats her weight in holiday food.

By the end of it all, she finds herself planted square in the center of Diana Barry’s living room, tinsel hung precariously above her, bottles of alcohol lined up across the counter, and more finger food than Anne knows what to do with.

It’s the event of the year, if you ask her. Their merry little band of Christmas elves and behind the scenes builders spent eleven whole months waiting until the season kicks off. They work their assess off, spread Christmas cheer like the goddamn Crusades, and then top the season off with an end of the year party like no other.

Diana hosts every year, being the only one with enough space and beds for people to crash on. Everyone gets a plus one (or two) and the house fills up with ugly Christmas sweaters and Santa hats. In the early years, Anne used to get so drunk she wouldn’t remember it the next day. Now, she’s perfectly content to nurse a few beers and just spend the time with her friends.

It’s the perfect holiday tradition.

Until –

“What is he doing here?” Anne hisses, voice a pathetic attempt at being quiet. If she’s being honest with herself, she sounds shrill. But shrill is a perfectly reasonable reaction to seeing the bane of her Christmas season standing in the doorway and shrugging his coat off. “Diana, _what_ is he doing here?”

“Oh, calm down,” Diana says, swatting Anne’s hands away where she’s trying to shake the sense into her best friend.

Calm down? _Calm down?_ She’s perfectly calm. She’s never been calmer in her life. Calm people can sound shrill sometimes. They can feel their heart beating out of their chests and have cold sweats breaking out on the backs of their necks. Calm people can be perfectly calm and still feel the rising, unadulterated hatred rising up like bile in the backs of their throats.

Anne is calm, god dammit.

“Anne,” Diana pleads, but it falls on deaf ears. “Stop it. He was part of the team this year, so he’s invited to the team party. It’s only fair.”

“He was Santa for, what? A week?” Anne huffs and crosses her arms. She’s fully aware of how indignant she looks, but she can’t find it within herself to care enough. “I’d hardly call him part of the team.”

“It was an important week! And besides, we invited Jerry last year and he’d only filled in for the few days after Paul broke his leg and couldn’t do the heavy lifting.”

“Jerry was essential.”

“And Gilbert’s fucking _Santa_.”

Whatever Anne was going to say next dies on her lips. Diana is matching her move for move, word for word, and really, she has nowhere else left to go. He was Santa. That is an indisputable fact. And even though Anne would rather eat glass than admit it out loud, they couldn’t have had their yearly Pictures with Santa event without… well… Santa.

Besides, Diana has clearly found the hill she wants to die on. Anne knows the look in her eyes better than the back of her hand and unless she wants to spend the week between Christmas and New Year’s waging a silent war with her best friend, she’d better back off.

She sucks a harsh breath through her teeth and leaves it at that. A wordless resignation. Consider it her Christmas present to the Barry’s.

It’s a big house. She should be able to avoid him, right?

_Right?_

Except he’s _everywhere_. When she goes into the kitchen, he’s by the counter with Prissy and Winnie. When she goes into the hall, he’s lingering by the doorway with Josie and Tillie. When she parks herself on the stairs, she sees him laughing with Diana and some boy she’s never seen before.

Moody, she finds out later. Gilbert’s friend. She only finds out through Ruby, who’s since abandoned her affections for the former _Claus_ in favor of hanging off Moody’s arm. If he wasn’t an associate of Gilbert, Anne might find them cute; the way Moody beams a big smile and laughs at every single joke her friend says; the way his hand settles comfortably in the small of her back as she sips on her drink; the way Ruby is looking at him and the way he looks back at her.

It could have been cute, but Anne can’t help but roll her eyes because every time she sees Moody, she’s reminded of Gilbert.

Gilbert, who, _of fucking course_ , is lingering by the snack table. The very same snack table Anne decided to meander to after finishing off her second beer.

“Hi,” He tries.

These mini hotdogs are just so interesting, she could spend all night studying them. How did they get so small? And the puff pastry they’re wrapped in is absolutely divine. These croissants must have been baked with the finest love in the world, handcrafted by Diana herself. Wherever did she find the time…

Maybe if she ignores him he’ll go away.

Her mistake is chancing a quick glance up, only to find him smirking over at her. “Pigs in blankets, huh? I hear Oscar Mayer makes a mean hors d’oeuvres.” 

“I don’t remember asking,” she spits, harsher than she means, but not far off from how she feels. Why can’t he just get the hint and leave her alone?

“Sorry.” 

He’s not. Anne can tell by the amused look on his face and the way he’s still angled toward her. 

She’s about to tell him as much, about to give him an honest piece of her mind, when someone comes barreling into her back hard enough for her mini hot dogs to spill all over the floor.

“I swear –”

_“Anne.”_

Any frustration Anne felt immediately dies on her lips. Standing in front of her, instead and slightly green, is none other than Ruby. Her hair disheveled six ways to Sunday and her eyes are hardly open. Her voice hitches as she says Anne’s name, panicked and upset.

What in the ever-loving fuck did Gilbert’s friend _do?_

“Ruby, are you okay?”

Ruby pitches forward, directly into Anne’s arms, and whines an, “I don’t feel so good.”

Fuck.

God dammit, this happens every god damn year.

Without a second thought, Anne slings Ruby’s arm over her shoulder and takes on most of her weight. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Let me help,” Gilbert says from his forgotten post by the snacks.

Jesus Christ. “No.”

“Why not?” He argues, stepping closer to get a better look at Ruby. Instinctively, Anne angles them away as if to shield Ruby from his prying eyes.

“She’s _my_ friend.”

“Well, I’m a medical student.”

“Okay? Doesn’t mean you get an automatic pass to be alone with every drunk, unconscious girl you come around.”

“Wait, do you think –”

“Seriously, Gilbert. You’re such a _cad_.”

“Anne, I’m not trying to take advantage of her,” he reasons. His voice sounds concerned enough, but that doesn’t mean Anne will simply trust him blindly. What makes him think she’ll let him tag along? And for what – to watch Ruby get sick? “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Sure, that’s what they all say. What can you do for her that I can’t, huh?”

Gilbert crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly looking ten feet taller. It’s a stare down, stubborn and stilted at the same time. Behind them, Ruby retches.

“Do you know the signs and symptoms of alcohol poisoning?”

“I was a college student once, Gilbert. Of course, I know them.”

He doesn’t go on right away and Anne fumbles in the silence between them. He just stands there, one eyebrow quirked and the knowing sense of victory. The party rages on in the background, but the noise is nothing but a dull drone.

“Unfocused eyes, bluish tinted skin, low body temperature. Can she talk? Walk? Does she know who she is? Is she breathing normally?”

Anne gapes for a second before rebounding. Part of her is furious with herself for losing whatever made up competition is brewing between them, but another, bigger part feels worry creeping up the front of her throat.

She sends a nervous glance over to Ruby, slumped against the couch with the trashcan in her lap. Is she blue? The lighting in here is so bad she wouldn’t even be able to tell if she got her phone light out. Does she know where she is? Anne has been drunk off her rocker enough to know that things can get pretty hazy. When is it past the point of being normal?

Gilbert doesn’t say anything. No smug remarks, no cocky attitude. All he does is watch Anne process through her options. And as much as she hates him, she can’t help but appreciate the way he doesn’t rub it in.

It doesn’t take long for her worry to overtake her and she’s conceding a bitter _fine_ before hoisting Ruby up and stumbling to the bathroom. Gilbert doesn’t get a chance to help them, not between Anne’s quick determination and the very pointed look she sends him when he tries.

They get to the bathroom just fine. Anne shoulders her way past and Gilbert trails behind until they’ve made it up to Diana’s private, second floor bathroom. The one on the ground floor had a line halfway to the kitchen – like hell they’re dealing with that.

Diana won’t mind. Anne has spent so much time in this house it’s practically a second home, and Ruby is like a sister. It’s an unspoken privilege that any of the girls in their group are allowed to break the strict No Upstairs policy if anything goes wrong. Hell, they’re allowed to break it if things go _right_. Anne has spent her fair share of time hanging out in one of the spare bedrooms simply because she doesn’t want to deal with whatever nonsense is happening downstairs.

Needless to say, the second bathroom is a lifesaver. Not only is it private, but it's double the size of the powder room downstairs. All three of them fit comfortably inside, with Ruby propped against the toilet, Anne kneeling next to her, and Gilbert perched on the edge of the tub. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just sits there and watches Anne sooth her hand down the length of Ruby’s back while she whispers quiet comforts into her hair.

She hates the way she can feel his eyes burning into her shoulders. What kind of creep wants to sit and watch her wipe vomit off of someone’s face? There has to be other, prettier girls downstairs who would be more than happy to pay attention to him. Anne watched the ogling he received as he walked through the door. He could have his pick of the litter.

And yet, here he is, perfectly content with crawling under Anne’s skin until she’s ready to start swinging.

“So?” She chides, not even bothering to look at him.

“So?” He repeats, far less malice in his voice. It makes her blood boil.

“ _So?_ ” She tries again, and he chuckles. She has half a mind to throttle him into the next universe. “Is she going to be okay? Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be – I don’t know, doing a medical exam on her?”

Whatever joke Gilbert was obviously going to sling at her never comes. His eyes shift from playful to soft in a single blink and before Anne knows what’s happening, he’s kneeling beside her. “Of course.”

His hands move slow as they settle in the space between Ruby’s shoulder blades. “Hey, Ruby, it’s Gilbert. Can I touch you?”

Ruby doesn’t say yes as much as she gurgles it. It’s as gross as it is endearing. It doesn’t seem to faze Gilbert, though, because he immediately settles another hand on her shoulder to pull her up from where she rests.

Anne doesn’t need to be asked to hold Ruby up. She gets behind her and supports her in an upright position while Gilbert shifts around to get as good of a look at her face as he can. Her eyes are half lidded and glazed, but she seems relatively present. She answers all of his questions accurately, only pausing to gag once. He asks for permission before he settles two fingers on her neck to check her pulse, and again before he rests the back of his hand on her forehead to check her temperature.

He doesn’t communicate any of his findings, just works in silence save for the occasional question or comment to Ruby. He finishes just in time for another wave of nausea to overtake Ruby. She tips over, grabbing onto the toilet and spilling whatever contents are left in her stomach.

“Oh,” Anne coos, using both of her hands to hold Ruby’s hair out of her face. She throws a cursory glance at Gilbert, who still sits on the floor, and asks, “Can you give me a hand?” 

“What do you need?”

“Untie one of my braids,” She says, “And give me the hair tie. If she throws up in her hair I’m gonna end up spending the next several hours trying to get her showered and clean. She’ll never forgive me, otherwise.”

Gilbert laughs, but makes no move to comply with her request. He sits there, looking at Anne’s hair and almost contemplating what to do next, as if Anne asked him to grab the moon out of the sky. Seriously, it’s just a hair tie. What’s his problem? “Don’t make me wait all day.”

This seems to snap Gilbert out of whatever he was thinking about, because he jumps and then softly grabs one of Anne’s braids. Gently, he pulls the band out of her hair and watches as the braid falls loose at her side. The top of it stays twined together but the bottom melds into one mass of hair. It’s messy and she would have half a mind to be embarrassed if she gave a shit about Gilbert’s opinion. Instead, she continues pulling Ruby’s hair back into a messy bun and takes the band from Gilbert to tie it back.

Gilbert still doesn’t move, though. He’s hardly taken his eyes off of her, eyebrows pinched into a mildly concerned look. Anne’s about to turn around and shoo him off when Ruby retches again, keeping Anne’s full attention.

“What are you looking at?” Anne chides, irritated with his attention on her while she battles the smell of regurgitated alcohol and cucumber sandwiches.

“I’ll just – here.”

Anne doesn’t see, more like feels, Gilbert run his hands through the tangles of her hair. There’s a slight catch and pull, but she pays no mind. She’s busy pulling Ruby’s hair back and out of her face before the next wave of vomit can overtake her.

Gilbert continues his own task, which Anne realizes is pulling her own hair back and melding it into one single braid down the center of her back, as opposed to the twin braids she’d worn only minutes ago. Deft fingers twist and fold the strands until he’s finished and, fuck, that’s not half bad. It’s not too loose, nor too tight. And it feels balanced.

“How’d you learn how to do that?”

He doesn’t answer for a bit, busy twisting the spare elastic around the end and leaning back to admire his work. It isn’t until he’s gone that she realizes how close they were. She feels cold where his warmth was and, despite her best attempts, she misses him having him so close. 

“I have a niece. She’s old enough to do her own hair now, but I used to braid it all the time when she was little. She’d make me do all these intricate designs. I guess I just never unlearned it.”

She throws a cautionary glance over her shoulder to find Gilbert perched back on the edge of the tub, having put a respectable distance between them. His smile is soft, eyes softer, and he twists a loose thread on his pants. She imagines him, picture perfect patience, as he struggles to wrangle a small child for long enough to do her hair. Suddenly, he makes more sense. How he can work so easily with children, how he smiles so effortlessly at them and knows how to speak their language.

“She’s lucky,” Anne murmurs as she sits back on her heels. She continues rubbing idle circles between Ruby’s shoulder blades.

“I’m the lucky one,” Gilbert says. “She’s just – my brother and Mary – my little family.” He talks in fragments interrupted by wide smiles and Anne can see the way he becomes distant, momentarily going somewhere outside of this fluorescent bathroom, far away from the music thumping under their feet. He’s thinking of them, she knows it, and she wishes she could see into his head. They must be lovely. Only lovely people can evoke such a strong emotion in someone.

A harsh cough shakes her out of the moment and she tears her eyes away from him, unaware she was even staring in the first place. Gilbert, thank god, doesn’t seem to notice. Or, if he did, he doesn’t say anything.

Ruby stirs, head lolling against the seat of the toilet as she angles her head to get a better look at her surroundings. “Anne?”

She sounds normal, if a little tired, and Anne feels a wave of relief wash over her. “Yeah, Rubes?”

A small hiccough, a sniff. “I feel like shit.”

Anne laughs softly and brushes a few strands of loose hair out of Ruby’s face. “I’m sure you do. You went pretty hard down there.”

“I just –” Ruby starts, stopping as she tries to sit up. It hardly works and she ends up folding over into Anne’s lap. For as adorable as she looks, Anne knows if she throws up she’s a dead girl walking. “I wanted him to like me.”

“I’m sure he likes you,” Anne coos, shifting some of the deadweight off of her calves. Ruby may be small, but that doesn’t mean Anne’s immune to her legs going numb.

Beneath her, Ruby’s lower lip quivers. “Not anymore, not now.”

Now, with her back pressed against the sink cabinets instead of being angled toward the toilet, Anne has a clear view of Gilbert. He’s making a point not to look at them, phone out and eyes glued firmly downward, but she can tell he’s paying attention. For one, he’s not scrolling through anything. If he’s trying to be sneaky, someone should probably tell him he’s god awful at it. She’d do it herself, but she’s a tad bit busy. “How come?”

“Look at me!” Ruby’s eyes, previously shut against the harsh light, fly open so quickly Anne worries she’s going to jostle herself into full blown vomit mode. Her hands, lethargic and slow, gesture at her ruined outfit. “I’m gross. I ruined everything. I’m a ruiner. Ruby the ruiner.”

Already bloodshot eyes brim wet and even redder as tears gather in the corner. The floods come so quick, Anne hardly has time to wipe her thumb over the top of Ruby’s cheekbone to catch the first few drops. “You didn’t ruin anything. If he decides he doesn’t like you anymore, it’s his loss.”

“I got too excited and I drank too much.”

“I know you did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“Are you mad at me?” Ruby asks, suddenly infinitely small in the cradle of Anne’s lap. The tears haven’t stopped falling and her voice has held a continual warble, but _this_ is the thing that breaks Anne’s heart the most.

Ruby is a crier. She cries over everything. She cries when it rains because her plans for the day need to be changed, and she cries when it’s sunny because the world is _just so beautiful._ Anne has found her sobbing over Petfinder on more than one occasion, and god help them if Sarah McLachlan comes on their Spotify. Anne can handle all of those tears. She’s become an expert in teasing smiles and extra tissues. Those kinds of tears are expected, simply part of their everyday life.

But these kinds of tears? The kind that signals Ruby has taken the entire weight of the world onto her shoulders and is being crushed under the expectations of it all? The ones where something is truly, _truly_ hurting her? When she feels so small and empty and _responsible_ for everything? Anne knows the rarity of these tears, the raw and painful ones. And while she’s honored that Ruby trusts her enough to share in the truth behind her emotions tonight, it breaks her heart.

Just a little bit.

At the end of the day, Ruby is just as fragile as the rest of them. At the core of it all, all she wants is her friends' love. And sometimes, little bits of insecurity eat away at her and Anne can tell by the cracks in her voice that this is one of those moments. The weight of her embarrassment and shame is only feeding into those insecurities until the fire fans deep.

“No, Rubes, I’m not mad at you.” _I could never be mad at you_ goes unsaid.

“You should be down there, but you have to sit here and take care of me.”

“I don’t mind,” Anne says, making her voice soft to match the quiet that’s settled over them. “Besides, it’s nicer up here. Why would I want to be downstairs with a bunch of drunk people I hardly know? I’d much rather take care of someone I love.”

If Ruby has any objections, she doesn’t voice them. Her tired eyes slip closed once again. She seems to have cried herself out because she almost instantly falls asleep, breaths evening out and tense body becoming slack in Anne’s arms.

Whatever wave has come over Ruby has temporarily subsided. She’ll be out like a light for the remainder of the night and in the morning, Anne will gently tease her about having kept flecks of partially digested food out of her hair. If there are any lingering after effects taking up space in her mind, Ruby will voice them in her own way. Anne is attuned to the way Ruby might hesitate or the way her voice won’t match the jokes she makes.

They will deal with this in the morning, in whatever way it shows up. For now, Anne has to figure out how to get Ruby into bed. Sure, she’s a tiny little sprite but that doesn’t mean Anne can just hoist her up and whisk her away. Anne can hardly do ten consecutive pushups.

She might be able to coax Ruby into a half-awake shamble to the closest bedroom, but that seems unlikely with the way little snores have filled the bathroom. Or, she could leave her here. She knows where the spare pillows and blankets are in the Barry Household, she could make up quite the cot on this bathroom floor. Lord knows it won’t be the first time one of them has slept next to the porcelain throne.

But what if someone needs to pee in the middle of the night? No one is going to want to walk _all the way_ downstairs.

Maybe she could…

As if right on cue – as if every piece of her internal battle is written plain across her face – Gilbert coughs. Not just a normal cough, though. The kind that was meant to interrupt her thoughts. Because of course he wants to interrupt her. All he wants to do is wedge himself into her plans and mess everything up.

“Need some help?” He offers, in that soothing voice that boils blood beneath her skin. She can’t help the scowl that crosses her face, nor the way her arms tighten possessively around her sleeping friend. “I’ll carry her to bed, you can come with me. No funny business.”

His arms go up defensively and she considers telling him off. Considers baring her teeth and telling him to get out and never speak to her again. The emotions welling up inside of her don’t seem to make much sense, but she doesn’t question them. They feel as natural as the rising tide of the ocean: influential and cresting under the glow of the moon.

She comes close to yielding to them, to letting the waves carelessly fall from her lips, but doesn’t. Can’t, when she remembers the way he offered gentle words of reassurance, or the way he sat with them for the last hour just to make sure Ruby was safe. He has been nothing but a quiet observer, perched on his spot on the tub. His feet have probably gone numb from sitting so long, but he hasn’t complained. And while Anne won’t let her guard completely down, she also knows that she doesn’t want to leave Ruby sleeping on a dirty bathroom floor for the rest of the night.

She keeps her response a short and simple _thank you_ as Gilbert moves closer into her space. The backs of his hands press into her thighs where he wedges them between Anne and Ruby and she can feel his breath, hot on the side of her neck, as he leans closer. All attempts to avoid his eyes are futile when he’s this close. They’re honey mixed with chocolate – two of her favorite things – and the sight causes her breath to catch in the back of her throat. She doesn’t get it back until he’s pulling away, lifting Ruby up and back so Anne herself can stand.

Once again, Anne is confronted with the sheer height of Gilbert. Her head tilts back as she looks up to meet his gentle smile, his shoulders relaxed despite carrying an entire human being. She feels like she’s been run over with a steamroller from the sheer exhaustion of prepping for the party, combined with plastering on a smile and drinking obligatory drinks, then taking care of Ruby. Gilbert, however, looks untouched – as if he’s floated down from heaven. As if nothing in the world could bother him; stress and frustration rolling easily off of his shoulders just like rain tips and drips off the ends of an umbrella.

“Lead the way,” he says, nodding toward the door. The way with which Anne snaps out of her stupor is borderline violent.

Jesus. Get a fucking grip. Just because he looks put together _does not_ mean he’s Jesus reincarnated. He’s just a boy. A stupid, smug boy who has done nothing but get under her nerves since she laid eyes on him. Sure, he did one or two nice deeds, but that doesn’t excuse every other thing Anne finds annoying about him.

Like his stupid brown eyes, and his stupid easy smile. Or his broad shoulders, and the way he sounds when he talks about his family.

Whatever.

The quicker they get Ruby into bed, the quicker Anne will be able to rid him from her life. Christmas season is over, so they will have no reason to see each other. No more mall Santa meet-and-greets, no more work after parties. Things can go back to the way they were before. Anne shoulders her way out of the bathroom and down the hall glancing behind her to make sure Gilbert is following.

They navigate the short distance to the guest room Anne knows about. She normally ends up crashing in Diana’s room.Her friend’s bed is big enough to fit ten people and have room to spare, so Anne has never had much of a use for this room. Good thing, too, because the bed in here is twice as small and she’s not too keen on sharing with Ruby, given her current state.

Once the blanket is pulled back, Gilbert gently deposits her on top of the sheets. Anne makes quick work of undoing her shoes and unbuttoning her sweater. Ruby will make due sleeping in most of her clothes, so Anne stops there and sets about tucking her in.

Anne can’t help the sigh of relief that falls from her lips when she sees Gilbert slip from room out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t even noticed how tense she was until he left, feeling it all but bleed out of her shoulders and neck.

She feels such a noticeable difference that her breath stops all together when he pads back into the room, bathroom trash hanging loosely from his left hand.

“For overnight,” he says, placing the can down next to the bed. “Just in case.”

Anne doesn’t say anything – _can’t_ with the way she’s still not breathing.

His Christmas sweater has been pulled off and is tied around his waist, revealing a plain white T-shirt tucked into his slacks. His curls, previously perfect, are mused and wild and she notices, for the first time, the exhaustion in his own eyes.

“One of us should probably check on her throughout the night,” he says. The weight of his words slams into her.

“Is she going to be okay?”

He chuckles, soft. “She’s going to be fine. But it doesn’t hurt to be safe.”

The clock on the bedside table tells her it’s past midnight and it occurs to her how much quieter the house is. Whatever party is still going on downstairs is obviously winding down. It’s probably whittled down to the usual crew, as it always does.

Which means Gilbert’s friend might be gone by now.

Something like guilt wells up inside of Anne. She’s kept him so long, he’s missed whatever party he was hoping to attend and now the night is drawing to a close. Whatever conversations he could have had, whatever friends he could have made, the opportunities have passed. Instead, he spent the night being glared at and taking care of a drunk girl he hardly knows.

But he smiles at her in the same way he’s been smiling at her since they first met. A gentle upturn of the lips, a subtle tilt of his head, the glint in his eye that tells her something she spent weeks ignoring. She _still_ wants to ignore it.

He’s nice. Sweet, even.

She can’t look at him anymore, so she busies herself by needlessly adjusting the blankets around Ruby’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He sounds confused, which is ridiculous. Anne knows she’s been a little shit. She knows he knows it, too. He’s not stupid. A watchful eye and a quick wit won’t leave him impervious to the quick jabs and little insults she’s been throwing at him.

“For everything,” she answers. “You wasted the entire party.”

For all his self-control, Gilbert throws his head back and laughs so loud Anne worries Ruby might wake. She doesn’t, hardly even moves. Thank god.

He goes quiet for a moment, looking out into the empty of the room before letting himself look back at Anne. A thousand wordless thoughts seem to pass over him in that moment, a thousand voiceless moments Anne finds herself longing to hear. “It worked out, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only came because I wanted to see one person.”

The look in his eyes is intense, yet magnetic. She couldn’t look away now, not even if she wanted to. Which, surprisingly, she doesn’t.

“Diana’s downstairs, you know,” she says. A last-ditch effort to deflect that which she doesn’t even want to be true.

“Not her.” His voice falls ever quieter, and Anne watches as he takes a tentative step forward. Reading has always been a strong suit of hers, so it doesn’t take much for her to read in between the lines now.

But just because she knows what he means doesn’t mean it makes any sense. He shouldn’t want to spend time with her. He shouldn’t even want to see her. She’s snubbed every single attempt he’s made at being friends. Every time he tried to talk to her at work, she literally walked away when he was mid-sentence. When he managed to catch her, she struck ruthlessly with her words. For every move he made, she countered tenfold.

“I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you.”

“Maybe that’s how you see it.”

“No, it’s the _truth_.”

“It’s your _interpretation_ of the truth.” God he’s so smug, Anne has half a mind to wipe that grin off his face as he settles into the space next to her on the bed. There’s just enough room for him to sit, and when he does the bed dips and draws her closer to him. “You see yourself as an asshole, and I see you as one of the most interesting women I’ve ever met.”

“There’s nothing interesting about a girl who shuts you down.”

“Au, contraire,” he says. “There’s everything interesting about you, Anne. I just want to know you. You’re funny, and witty, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind. There’s something magnetic about you, something that begs people to be in your orbit. The crew is great, and Diana is lovely, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come to this party because I knew you’d be here.”

“Is that why you insisted you come with me and Ruby?” Anne asks, unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice. It comes out lighter, though, and paired with a smile and a nudge.

“No,” Gilbert says. “Well, not entirely. I really did want to make sure she was okay. But I will admit I didn’t leave after because I wanted to spend more time with you. You weren’t kicking me out, so I figured I’d hang around. You know, make sure everything is alright.”

Anne giggles at the exaggerated way Gilbert waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, so I could have kicked you out at any time? In that case –”

She doesn’t finish, cut off by her own laughter as Gilbert playfully shoves at her.

All at once, shoreline shows itself as the tide begins to ebb away. Anne feels the ocean, in its familiar, predictable movements, ease back from the beach. She feels whatever emotions she holds in that water recede with it, leaving behind nothing but empty space in which something new begins to form. Not new in that she has never felt it before, but new in that she never once expected to feel it with Gilbert.

She feels content. Safe, almost. And, if she has the foresight to admit it, even happy to have his company.

Her heart kicks back in her chest like the backfire of an old car, loud and quick. Whatever alcohol had been in her system has long exited and even though her thoughts are clouded, she knows what she feels.

So, when he leans in, Anne doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t want to.

She feels his hand first, gentle as it cups the side of her face. His thumb swipes at the underside of her eye the same way she soothed Ruby earlier, except there are no tears to ease away. It leaves behind a rosy blush that glows on her face as Gilbert leans in closer. The last thing she sees before her eyes slip closed are those honey-chocolate eyes staring into her own.

Gilbert kisses as gently as he speaks. His lips slide over Anne’s in slow, tender motions. They’re soft and easy to get lost in as something big and tender swells inside of her chest.

Anne has kissed boys before. She’s done more than kiss them, and she’s not ashamed to admit that. But in all the kisses she’s given, in all the touches she’s shared, none of them have felt quite like this. None of them have held the gentle roar of a fireplace while feeling as consuming as a hot summer's day. None of them have sent chills down her spine while filling her chest up with something unnamable. She’s never felt so compelled to lean in closer, to take as much as he’s willing to give.

Which, turns out, is a lot.

Gilbert opens his mouth to the gentle swipe of Anne’s tongue and before she knows it, she’s all but climbed into his lap. His hands are large where they hold her hips and she settles her own in his hair. His curls are as soft as they look, wrapping themselves around her pinky finger with breathless ease.

She becomes adrift in the taste of him, the feel of him. And even though things could very easily escalate past this point, Anne knows they won’t. The fire that kindles in her chest does not burn in that way. It burns instead for the simple feel of him against her. Exploratory, they still have much to learn about each other. But whatever strings tie them together, Anne knows they won’t easily be broken.

Lord knows she tried. From the first moment she saw him, she tried to sever those strings and now she’s in his lap, eating his face and loving every second of it.

And she would have been content to continue doing so it wasn’t for the absolutely scandalized gasp that comes from behind her. Anne _launches_ herself off of Gilbert and straight onto the floor. She lands with so much force a picture falls off the nightstand. Gilbert immediately covers his face, red ears glowing from behind his hands.

Anne doesn’t need to look up to know who’s standing behind her. The list of people who are allowed up here is very small, two of them already being accounted for.

She knows it’s Diana long before her very best bosom friend whisper-screams a rather dramatic _oh my god_ before tripping on her way out of the room. 

“Fuck,” Is the only word in her mental dictionary. Somehow, for someone who has been known to whip out words that haven’t been regularly used in centuries, the literal only thing bouncing around inside of her empty, empty head is, _fuck, fuck, fuck._

“I’m so sorry,” Gilbert groans after a second. “That was so – I shouldn’t have – I mean I liked – but you –” he babbles nonsensical into his hands.

“Fuck,” Anne repeats because the shock of it all is still loud in her head. And then, without warning, something bright and uncontrollable bubbles up inside of her chest. Giggles spill out of her so unbidden they feel like a forgotten pot on a stove, boiling in the way that demands attention. They come and come until she’s doubled over on the floor, clutching her side.

Infected, Gilbert joins her, and the stress of being caught melts away in the face of how _utterly ridiculous_ this all is. In less than twelve hours, she’s gone from hating Gilbert’s guts to willingly and enthusiastically making out with him while her unconscious best friend sleeps only two feet away. And she’s entirely sober.

What in the actual hell.

Time is as irrelevant as it’s been all night. Eventually Gilbert stands and helps Anne off the floor. His hands are warm in hers and as soon as she’s steady on her feet, he sends her the kind of look that nearly knocks her on her ass.

“So,” he starts, trailing off when Anne makes a show of adjusting her shirt.

“So,” she repeats.

“I guess I should go,” he says, but it sounds more like _I wish I could stay._

“I guess you should,” Anne says, but it sounds more like _me, too._

They don’t say anything else as Anne walks him downstairs. They don’t need to. There’s electricity buzzing in the air and that’s enough for now.

Moody is waiting for him, jacket and keys in hand. He’s rosy in the cheeks, but Anne is confident that Gilbert is sober considering she only saw him drink one beer and has been with her for the past few hours.

He doesn’t kiss her goodnight and she doesn’t ask him to. But he does wink at her.

_Slow_ , Anne thinks. _Natural._

 _“Goodnight, Gilbert,”_ Diana all but sings as he and Moody make their way to their car. She doesn’t even try to dodge Anne’s hit. They watch the taillights until their turn out onto Diana’s road and disappear in the distance.

As soon as the door shuts, Diana pounces. “I’m never letting you live this down, Ruby was right there!”

“She was sleeping,” Is a very poor defense, but it’s the only thing Anne can think of.

“In the same bed you were humping Santa Claus in.”

“Oh, god,” Anne groans. “I’m suddenly drier than the Sahara. Never say that again.”

Diana cackles, “It’s true!” while Anne plans ten thousand and one ways to murder her best friend.

Anne is not above begging, so she levels her friend with a desperate look. “Please, Diana. Don’t.”

“What happened to smug and rude?” Diana teases, Anne following her up the stairs and back to the scene of the crime. The late hour settles over her shoulders and she realizes how tired she is. It’s been a long Christmas season, followed by a long night. Anne wants nothing more than to curl up under the covers and sleep for the rest of forever.

“Nothing – I don’t know. He’s still smug and rude.”

“Oh, yeah,” Diana scoffs. “Because you always go for the bad boy types. Something happened that you’re not telling me.”

“Nothing happened,” Anne insists, because nothing did. Not really. nothing big or monumental changed her mind about him. In fact, she’s not sure her mind has really changed much at all. She still thinks his smile is too smug, and that his attitude comes off as rude at times. She’s just… not sure she minds as much anymore. “He helped me take care of Ruby when she was throwing up. We got to talking. I don’t know, Diana, it’s late. Can we please sleep?”

Diana concedes without protest and they get ready for bed in comfortable silence. It isn’t until Anne is plugging in her phone, frowning down at it as realization dawns her, that Diana speaks up again.

“You don’t have his number, do you?”

“Nope.”

Diana makes absolutely no effort to conceal the pride in her voice when she says, “Well, it’s a good thing I already invited him and Moody to the New Year’s party.”

Well.

Looks like Anne has T-minus five days to prepare herself for round two.

**Author's Note:**

> HEY [Jodie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_strangest_person) GUESS WHAT I'M YOUR SECRET SANTA. This fic does not align with any of your prompts but you also said numerous times that you can't remember any of your prompts so I only feel slightly bad about it. 
> 
> I had so much fun with this fic. For MONTHS I had no idea what to write and then one day the first couple paragraphs word vomited themselves onto the page and BOOM this was born. I know you're a fluff monster and I know you dig a good modern AU and I ALSO know you like a fun fic, so I tried to combine all of that stuff. Fun fact, I have never successfully written a holiday fic (without angst) despite having tried many years in a row. There were times I didn't think I'd get this finished. I'm also NOTORIOUSLY bad at not being able to fill prompts and fucking up fic exchanges. Literally, I didn't start writing this until early last week. I'm so glad I was able to finish this for you. You deserve a high quality, fun, fic that you actually enjoy reading. I REALLY hope this fic can be those things for you. 
> 
> Thank you thank you THANK you to [Rachel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8) f for being a constant source of support, encouragement, and inspiration. You all can thank her for how much Ruby made it into this fic. It was her idea for Ruby to get sick. 
> 
> And thank you to [Ela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx) for beta reading this so last minute. I popped in the server, said "I hate editting" and she said "I shall deliver you from editing and allow you to rest your weary soul." I adore you, thank you so much. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone in the Shibert Circle Storybook Club for always being amazing sources of inspiration, motivation, and just being good friends to laugh with. You guys rock. Check out the rest of our Secret Santa fics at [Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/The_Shirbert_Circle) and give everyones fics the comments and love they deserve!
> 
> Happy holidays and Happy New Year, everyone. Let's hope for a better 2021. 
> 
> Come chat with me on [Tumblr](http://thelazyeye.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thelazyeye24)! And please, if you’re so inclined, drop a comment and let me know what you thought! I literally live for feedback and validation.


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